


Ricin Shine Young Man, the Flames are Already High and Nipping at Your Back

by lifeofdeathh



Series: Silver Soul: To Hell and Back Again [1]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Brief Torture Sequence, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Poison, Sickfic, cursing, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofdeathh/pseuds/lifeofdeathh
Summary: Ricin /ˈrīsən/ noun: a highly toxic protein obtained from the pressed seeds of the castor-oil plant.When a raid goes wrong, they have three days to save Edo. But wait, I thought you said this fic is about poison.First story, please have mercy, enjoy.
Relationships: Gintoki and his children (very light), Hijikata Tamegorou & Hijikata Toshirou, Hijikata Toshirou & Kondou Isao, Hijikata Toshirou/Okita Mitsuba (mentioned), Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Series: Silver Soul: To Hell and Back Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777717
Comments: 64
Kudos: 134





	1. Sometimes Life is Like a Fairytale and Bad Things Happen to Bad People

**Author's Note:**

> Events in the story based off of the history Ikedaya Incident involving the Shinsengumi.  
> I own none of the characters (although I do wish upon a star sometimes)  
> Ricin is a deadly poison that currently has no cure. It can be ingested (through castor beans), injected, or inhaled (as a mist or powder) and when concentrated, can kill a healthy grown man within three days with doses smaller than the tip of a ballpoint pen.

“Hijikata-san, we got him!” A stout amanto, dog head comically big, was forced onto his knees before him, hands bound and eyes downcast in his cowardice.

“Did you search him?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Any communication devices? Weapons?”

“A radio and several daggers, as well as a book, we confiscated all.”

“Good.” The demon lowered himself to the creature’s level and forced the rebel to look him in the eye.

“What’s your na-”

An explosion effectively sent everyone flying, and the hostage fell flat on his nose, smiling because they’re coming for him, and these police bastards don’t stand a fucking chance. No one bothered to help him as a katana left its sheath.

“SOUGO!!”

The amanto’s smile abruptly disappeared.

When the smoke cleared, the vice commander and first unit captain were already off on their little game of tag.

“Hijikata-san! What do we do with him?!” One of the dirt-covered officers called out, clambering up.

“Bring him in! I’ll deal with him later!”

“I thought this type of thing is usually for Okita-san.”

“Just do as you’re told, damn it!”

“Heads up, Hijikata-san.”

Another explosion.

“You little bastard! Get back here!!”

Face down as he is, the amanto did not see the startled look that passed between the two officers. One of them bent down to yank the creature to his feet by an arm. “I’m not sure whether you should be scared or honored.”

The second officer grabbed the prisoner’s other arm. “Probably both.”

**oO0Oo**

“Ready to talk?” The thing was battered enough that maybe, if it was a coward, it would talk to spare the real pain. But, perhaps he was wrong in his judgement this time.

The canine actually hissed at him, its stupidly large head swinging like an idiotic pendulum from side to side. A vein popped in his temple, and seeing as there weren't any Yamazakis to hold him back, Hijikata brought his hand hard across the creature’s face. It hissed again, this time in pain.

“What about now?”

It refused to look at him, so the demon stood up, and pulled the rope.

With a somewhat satisfying yelp, the amanto found itself airborne and quite upside-down, and it saw only the commander’s hands, in which he held five-inch iron spikes, and a candle.

It screamed when the spikes were driven into its heels, and started crying when the demon lit the candle and then his cigarette, because holy fuck it was scared to the depths of hell, despite how comical the mayonnaise-shaped lighter is.

It screamed louder when the burning wax dripped into its calves. The demon vice-commander was quite literally setting it on fire from the inside out.

“What about now?”

“I’ll talk!!”

“Good. We’ll start with your name.”

“Furutaka Shuntarou*.”

**oO0Oo**

Contrary to popular belief, he could be brutal at times, they didn't call him the demon for nothing, after all. He just usually left that to their resident sadistic brat. On this occasion, however, something about that amanto seemed so _off_ that it simply pissed him off, so he thought he’d try his hand at it, and what do you say, it worked.

“Kondou-san.” Hijikata strolled through the barracks looking for his superior, and felt another vein bulge as he spotted the commander hiding very indiscreetly behind a bush in his relentless quest to woo the kid’s sister.

“Kondou-san!” He ground out as he dragged the wailing man away from the bush and towards the meeting room. “Something seriously bad is going to happen, which means there is no time for stalking right now.” He shoved open the door to the meeting room and ushered Kondou inside. The rest of the Shinsengumi would be there soon enough. Before that, he needed to fill in his hopeless gorilla commander.

**oO0Oo**

One by one the officers of the Shinsengumi filed in, and idle chatter immediately filled the room, be it patrol tales, food discussions, or alcohol and girls. As he lit another cigarette, Hijikata narrowly evaded Sougo’s blade with a half backbend, though the katana did nick off a few strands of hair, as well as the tip of the cigarette, much to his annoyance.

“You’re so slow, Hijikata-san,” the brat drawled. “It makes me wonder why they haven’t replaced you with someone more qualified. Like me.”

“Like hell!! Go sit down!”

Once everyone is settled (took them long enough), Hijikata put out his cigarette, blowing out one last long stream of smoke.

“The rebels plan to set fire to Edo.” He waited for the explosion of exclamations and startled conversations to quiet down. “And kidnap Matsudaira-san while they’re at it.” The commotion quieted faster this time.

“They’re meeting at the Ikedaya Inn a few miles outside of Edo’s borders, close to the Ryugu Palace, tomorrow night to work out the details. Kondou-san and I will take each take a faction of fifteen, and once we’ve made sure those are the guys we’re after, we go in." He said. "I’ll lead the charge upstairs, Kondou-san will take the first floor. Those who are not coming with us will stay here to keep an eye on the active rebels and the prisoner.” Piercing gunmetal blue eyes swept the crowd. “Understood?”

“Yessir!”

“Good, get some rest,” he lit a new cigarette, and listed off those that would be joining them. Sougo, for the time being, would be in charge of headquarters, to which the boy stuck out his tongue. “We leave at dawn.”

**oO0Oo**

A beetle, bigger and louder than a beetle should be, landed on the cramped windowsill of the prisoner’s cell, barely managing to squeeze itself between the bars to capture the crazed murmurings of a wounded animal.

“Kill him… Kill him… Hijikata Toushirou… Kill him… _Kill_ him.. _Kill_ him kill _him_ _kill him_.” It rose to a whispery chant, and the beetle squeezed itself out of the cell, the camera on its antennae buzzing with static, and flew off into the night.

**oO0Oo**

In the Yorozuya, an old phone buzzed on the wooden floor, and a hand reached for it from the adjacent futon.

“You’re late.”

“Got held up.”

“By what?”

“Planning.”

“Wow, Oogushi-kun, care to elaborate?”

“The hell’s Oogushi-kun, you sugar freak.”

“That hurt my feelings.”

“Like hell it did.”

“Does Hijikata-kun not believe Gin-san? That hurt even more.”

“Shut up, stupid perm.”

“The insults just keep coming today, what if Gin-san has had enough? Maybe he’ll leave for a young lady. You see, there’s always some girl looking at me all ‘kawaii~’ They also compliment my hair, because they actually understand that my beautiful curls mean I’m a natural-born genius.” He was greeted with an utterly defeated sigh.

“Naa Oogushi-kun, don’t be so pessimistic, you still haven’t told good old me what you're planning for.”

“Going on a raid tomorrow.”

“What for?”

“Some amanto are planning to burn Edo to the ground.” There was a tense silence on the other side for a few moments.

“How are you gonna stop them?”

“They’re meeting at the Ikedaya Inn tomorrow night, we surprise them there.”

“When do you leave?”

“Dawn.” A brief silence.

“Be careful. And don’t break anything, I reserve that right.” The incomprehensible sputtering from the other side of the phone made the samurai smile, and the abrupt end to the call had him chuckling faintly to himself as he tossed the phone across the futon, seeing it land next to his battered justaway alarm clock.

At the barracks, one demon vice commander, after fumbling with the charger, pulled the blanket over his head to hide an ever-deepening blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Torture method and prisoner name are both taken straight from history, carried out by the real Hijikata Toshizou, although nothing is set in stone because of inconsistent records.


	2. We Fear Not God-Like Foes, Only Idiotic Teammates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So in one night, Hijikata was bombarded with enough idiocy to last him a lifetime, got kicked in the ass by regret, AND shattered his Demon Vice Commander image??
> 
> Great! What else could POSSIBLY go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Welcome back, or welcome if you are new, to this story. I hope you are all staying safe and inside and possibly rewatching Gintama because come on, why not.
> 
> Anyway, before you proceed, I need to say something: I decided to change the story to past tense, so for those who read the first chapter before I made adjustments, that is why this chapter will be in past tense.  
> However, because I had to go back through the entire story to change all the verb tenses, I probably missed a few, so if you see any, please let me know. Trust me, I understand how much bad grammar can take away from reading a story so please don't hold back.
> 
> Enjoy.

It started snowing when they surrounded the little inn, inside and out, hidden in plain sight in the crowded streets and among the chattering guests, only the vests of their uniforms under casual yukatas, seeing as the jacket would be too bulky. They lay in wait for Yamazaki and Shinohara to confirm the identity of the burly amanto that entered the little house one after another, although it really wasn’t all too necessary. From his spot by the window, a cup of warm coffee between his hands, Hijikata almost scoffed. They could have at least _tried_ to make themselves less obvious.

Across the room, he spotted a table that at first hosted only two unfriendly-looking aliens but had now gathered at least seven or eight. As he observed them, patience ticking away by the second as the two spies failed to return, one of them, one of the royal amanto with their dangling Chidannekskos, suddenly swiveled to look him dead in the eye. 

Caught off guard, Hijikata’s hand jolted a bit, nearly spilling the coffee. Quickly collecting himself, he offered a polite smile; the amanto did not return it. As the vice commander returned to his drink, a yelp sounded from downstairs, and he was instantly alert.

“Shinohara-san! That was the last anpan I had left! Why would you just throw it away like that?!” Hijikata only barely suppressed the urge to facepalm, or to go downstairs and give the _very_ undercover “spy” a piece of his mind. But the amanto were still watching him; he could feel their burning gazes on him. Right now wasn’t the time for any slip-ups.

There was silence for a few moment when the guests all halt to wonder at the strange outburst, but the chatter soon continued, and Hijikata allowed himself to relax slightly, tugging at his scarf to keep his neck securely tucked in. It really wasn’t as if he hates winter, it was just one of his less favorite seasons, given how sensitive he was to the cold, in regards to which discomfort was one thing, but the chill also slowed him down, which could become very irritating and was often less than ideal.

“Hijikata-san.” Yamazaki’s voice floated up the stairway, and Hijikata had to pinch himself so as to not respond and give the rebels any clues. He swore one day that idiot was going to get them all killed. He didn’t look at them, but in his peripheral vision he spotted all eight to ten of them (it seemed like he was too busy calming himself down to realize that several more had come in) gazing intently around the floor.

‘Tch, amateurs,’ he thought, even Katsura was less obvious than they were.

He noted Yamazaki running up the stairs, and upon spotting the vice commander, immediately made his way to him. It was then that Hijikata promised himself to give the oblivious idiot a beat-down later. Behind him, Shinohara was much more sensible (it seemed like work for Itou had its benefits), and after smacking Yamazaki on the head, attempted to drag him away.

Too late.

One of the amanto, of the Shinra this time, stood up and made his way, overly theatrical and trying too hard for grace, hips twitching back and forth like a supermodel not quite right in the head, to the vice commander’s table.

“You are of the Hijikata family.” Hijikata shot Yamazaki a subtle glare promising a not-so-subtle punishment, likely seppuku (the poor man looked positively petrified), before looking to the alien. Too late to hide it now.

“I am.” He stood up, hand hovering just close enough to his katana. “And you are?”

The Shinra ignored his question. Rude.

“Are you Hijikata Toushirou?” For the billionth time that day Hijikata wanted to facepalm at the sheer amount of carelessness and stupidity thrown at him. You see, when you’re trying to figure out someone’s identity, the one thing you _don’t_ do is _ask said person for it_ , because they are certainly _not_ going to reveal who they are. Unless they’re _that_ dumb- Ahh nevermind… At least it made his job easier.

“No, I’m his brother, Hijikata Tamegorou, are you looking for him?”

“Yes, I’m an old friend of his, coming to visit. My my, you sure are a handsome man,” Hijikata forced a smile. “What are you doing in the city? I thought you lived in the countryside.” So they did do _some_ research. Sadly, not enough, or else they’d know this entire situation is very much impossible.

“Much like you, I’ve come to visit my brother in the city. In fact, I’m meeting him tonight.” Come to think of it, how long has it been since he wrote his last letter?

“I see. Well, be sure to let him know that an old pal is coming to town.” A while, he supposed.

“I will.”

“I suppose I won’t be seeing you around then, Hijikata-san.” His hand floated just that tiny bit closer to his blade.

The Shinra shook open his fan, a little too violently, the tip of which caught the side of the coffee mug and sent its contents spraying across the table, and the fan itself fluttered to the ground when the alien’s grip startled. “Oh my goodness. I do humbly apologize!” As the Shinra bent to pick up his fallen fan, Hijikata saw that the two spies were gone, probably off to alert Kondou-san to the situation.

Any time now, they would strike. He just needed to stay unidentified for a little longer.

He barely had time to finish the thought before an explosion went off downstairs, and Hijikata jumped into the air to dodge the thin iron needles that shot out of the fan’s hidden crevices. On cue, fifteen blades unsheathed at once, and then citizens were screaming, and Hijikata heard the designated officers yelling for people to stay as calm as they could and get out, informing them that this was police mission and that they needed not be afraid.

Twisting and sending a swift kick that sent the amanto sprawling, Hijikata pulled off his yukata (not the scarf though, because holy hell he was still cold), the vest and badge in full display. All around him, officers mirrored his movement as yukatas were shed like cocoons, and they surrounded the rebels. Briefly, they held a stalemate until both sides exploded into action.

Katanas clashed, wounded soldiers fell, and in all but a few seconds the inn became a battlefield. Hijikata himself vaulted over a table and landed squarely on top of the alien that tried to threaten him.

“I suppose we _won’t_ be seeing each other any time soon.” He snarled at the fallen Shinra, blade pointed at the alien’s neck. Even when it pulled out a gun, the vice-commander was ready, and the katana drew blood before the gun was properly aimed, and Hijikata left him clawing at his throat as he choked on his own blood. Turning, the commander swiveled to avoid a katana and ducked to dodge the bullet, throwing himself into a kick at the creature’s ankles, hearing two consecutive _crack_ ’s as it howled on its fall to the floor. Though Hijikata had to give it to this one, it wasn’t a coward. As it fell, Hijikata caught the subtle rotation that it attempted in trying to squash him into the floor. But when it reached the commander, Hijikata’s katana was ready, and blood sprayed onto his face and vest as the creature impaled itself on the blade.

Heaving to the side (goddamnit this thing was heavy), Hijikata failed to notice the assaulting blade at his back, and it was only when a harsh _clang_ grated on his ears that he turned to see a young officer holding off a towering gorilla. Putting his entire weight into it, Hijikata twisted again, and kicked the corpse off his blade and into the monster, sending both the dead and the living rolling across the floor like bowling balls.

“Vice commander!” The younger man rushed to Hijikata, and the older took the offered hand, straightening, and dipped his head in a brief thanks. 

In that moment, the young man practically radiated happiness.

Usually, on a mission like this, Hijikata only took along experienced fighters, but during the training he overlooked with the new recruits, he had taken a liking to this young man, and just this once, he broke tradition to give him a chance. A decision he soon found himself regretting.

The happy little moment did not last, and the young officer let out a strangled cry as he was lifted bodily off the ground by a Dakini’s scythe, and Hijikata’s heart dropped into his stomach.

Adrenaline rushed through him, and his vision zeroed in on his next victim.

Expertly, the commander dove into a roll under the young officer’s feet and brought his katana up in a ferocious arc that split the Dakini’s chest from left hip to right shoulder.

The wounded soldier fell with a harsh grunt, and Hijikata knelt by his side. “This is going to hurt.” He warned quickly before he pulled out the scythe, hard and fast and precise. The officer screamed at the pain, but Hijikata was already pulling off his scarf and wrapping it around the injury.

“What’s your name?” He said as a way of distraction.

“A-Amaji-” he grunted at the sudden increase of pressure on the wound as Hijikata tightened the scarf. “Is-sen*… sir!”

“Good. I’ll remember that.” Hijikata lunged over the limp form to cross blades with an Inuisei, the dog growling and snarling. Its attack cut off, the alien continued its assault from a different angle, only to be met with the same resistance, and had to flail with its blade to block the answering attack that soared in. It let out an animalistic growl, and as it swung for the third time, it made a wide arc around Hijikata and aimed straight for Amaji. 

To give it credit, it was smart, but to take away that credit, it played dirty.

Hijikata spun sharply to counter the move, and the dog-like creature brought its claws, unsheathed and glinting, upwards, slicing easily through fabric and skin, and Hijikata felt pain erupt in his left upper arm. The impact knocked him to the side, and the creature charged at him, but in a foolish act of impatience, it swung the katana far too high above its head, giving Hijikata almost too much time to run it through. And as he turned, blade at the ready, the demon saw that the enemy was cornered.

The five amanto that remained alive on the top floor were huddled back to back in a corner, officers on all side and corpses littering their feet. Among them, Hijikata saw a black uniform, but he did not linger, because the nature of the job was dangerous, and he had no choice but to keep going. Perhaps later, there would be time for him to honor the fallen with a salute and a cup of sake.

Lighting a cigarette, he joined his officers, placing a hand on one’s shoulder and gesturing towards Amaji, still laying on the ground, probably unconscious now, considering his lack of experience and time to build up pain tolerance. The officer took one look at the fallen soldier and nodded, letting Hijikata replace him in the half circle they had formed around the surviving aliens.

Hijikata raised his katana, dripping with blood.

“Surrender now and we can guarantee you live, resist and I make no promises.”

The amanto stared at him as if they didn’t understand, and the atmosphere abruptly took a turn for the awkward as his dramatic speech seemed to fall flat. He cleared his throat, and it sounded too damn loud in the sudden silence. “Like I said-”

Equally suddenly the aliens turned in on themselves, and huddled in a circle with their heads together, whispering in a way that was so incredibly irritating to the commander. “ _Oi-_ ”

An amanto head popped up from the circle, its expression almost annoyed. “Shh, can’t you tell we’re talking?? Learn some manners.” There was another awkward silence when the officers on either side of Hijikata inched away very slowly at the look of barely controlled annoyance and rage on the vice commander’s face, only to dart back in when said vice commander made to slaughter the rebels, several pairs of arms wrapping around the man’s abdomen to keep him in place.

“Let me kill them. _Let me kill them!_ ” 

“Vice commander you must not! Please calm down! Calm down!”

A sudden movement from the amantos promptly brought the scuffle to a halt, and as the officers retreated to either side, Hijikata recomposed himself, lit another cigarette (the last one having been dropped in the brief tussle), and held out his blade… and then failed to stop himself from laughing at the absolutely _ridiculous_ masks that the amanto had donned during their brief discussion. He wasn’t even sure _what_ they were supposed to be, because in all honesty, it looked like the aliens had simply pulled miniature tents over their heads, giving them the look of humanoid and _very_ out of proportion squids.

Around him, the officers stared at him, all of them wide-eyed, and he silently cursed these stupid aliens. He had an image to maintain, damn it!

But soon, as his fellow policemen took in the masks and the full glory of their laughability, the rest of the Shinsengumi started giggling along, and a few moments later, they were all laughing as if someone just told a really good joke at a drinking party.

Strangely, given the circumstances and all, Hijikata appreciated the genuine laughter, a sound he hadn’t made since the last time he suffered through one of the sugar freak’s lame stories, and that was months ago.

Funnily enough, the laughter seemed to throw off the amanto, given they kind of just stood there, not entirely knowing what to do. Until one of them, notably more easily embarrassed than the rest, started yelling.

“ _What’s so funny?!!_ ” It screamed at them, though that only seemed to encourage the officers as a new wave of laughter burst forth.

Fists clenching, the alien stomped its feet like a child throwing a tantrum. “ _RELEASE THE RICIN MIST!!_ ”

Suddenly, Hijikata wasn’t laughing anymore, and his blood ran cold. Of course, how could he be so _stupid_ , those laughable tents were fucking gas masks, and these rebels were about to unleash hell. Fucking _ricin mist_ , these guys were mad.

“ _EVERYONE GET OUT! COVER YOU NOSE AND MOUTH AND EYES! GET! OUT!_ ” Now he was screaming too, and no one was laughing anymore. They stayed dumbfounded for a moment, for they were not used to the anxiety that clouded the demon’s features the same way they were not accustomed to the laughter, but they were trained, so they did as they were told. As they rushed out in a wave, Hijikata stopped at Amaji’s side. The officer told to look after the young man watched Hijikata intently, waiting for the commander’s orders.

“Go make sure Kondou-san gets out safely.” The man nodded and joined the tide, nose and mouth covered just the way Hijikata taught them in the countless drills they go through everyday. As he took them in, Hijikata noted several men with blossoming red on the white sleeves of their uniforms, and who knew what the dark vests were covering up. But to his faint relief, none seemed too serious.

Reaching down, the vice commander grabbed ahold of Amaji’s arm and draped it across his own shoulders, pulling the young officer off the floor, albeit a bit harshly, earning him a small whimper.

“Get up.” He commanded, because if the kid was going to last in the Shinsengumi, this was what he had to learn to do. When he did not get a response, Hijikata did it again, harsher and colder. “ _Get. Up._ ” The younger man groaned, but he stood, though feebly at best, and Hijikata pressed his free hand over the wounded soldier’s nose and mouth. “Let’s go.”

Amaji gave a barely perceivable nod, and the pair made a run for the stairs. Hijikata did not look back at the black-clad body, but he hoped they had time to come back for him.

It was then that, like the mist on the stage of a magic show, poison encased the inn in a thin film of the white of ghosts, although it wasn’t as if Hijikata believed in them or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Amaji Issen was a real member of the Shinsengumi, which at its peak had over 400 members.


	3. Sometimes Life is Like Real Life and Bad Things Happen to Good People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, welcome back!
> 
> Lemme just take a moment to thank everyone who left comments and kudos on this story because I'm so very grateful that people are enjoying my work <3
> 
> If not for social distancing and the impossibility of doing this through a computer screen, I would give all of you big hugs.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this new installment, but buckle up.
> 
> The ride's starting.

He stumbled when he felt the impact of a bullet piercing his back, and the weight of the young man on his shoulders almost brought him to his knees, but he looked up and the door was mere steps away, so he put in a burst of speed and he didn’t fucking make it. As he was tackled to the ground, Hijikata gave Amaji a shove that sent the young officer staggering out the doorway and into awaiting arms, where several of their more medically skilled men immediately rushed to his aid. 

Kid’ll be fine then.

He twisted himself just in time to stop the katana swinging at his face, one palm pressed hard against the biting metal of the flat of the sword, the other wrapped around his assailant’s wrist. But his strength was failing him, and he  _ needed air _ . But at least the shock was keeping the pain at bay. 

The Dakini pushed harder, and he felt the blade break skin, warmth snaking down his arm. Then the monster played dirty, and slammed an elbow into Hijikata’s stomach, driving out much needed oxygen and shoving the bullet wound against the wooden ground. The burning sensation kickstarted like the boom of rolling war drums, and drew a raspy cry from the vice commander. 

Lovely, he had air now-

_ Shit. _

The Dakini took the chance to thrust downwards, and Hijikata’s elbows crashed against the ground, shoulders straining _. _ Then suddenly the weight was gone, and Dakini blood dripped onto his vest and badge. He faintly saw a hand reaching for him and blindly grabbed for it, letting Kondou pull him into the cold night, the white of the snow shimmering faintly in the darkness. And then he was coughing like hell, drawing in broken breaths in between, and his commander was calling his name and rubbing his back and he thought officers were gathering about the inn in a defensive formation. The explosion of fireworks brought him back, and he turned to see red flowers dissipating in the sky.

“ _ DUCK!! _ ” Someone screamed, and they all dove to the ground as a flurry of bullets assaulted the empty air where they were seconds before. Kondou turned to him, and they exchanged a brief nod before the older man turned to usher the men to the cars pulled around by another squad. Hijikata did the same, and he was glad to see there were no civilians around.

“Let’s go! In the cars, get out of here! Drive to the nearest station and keep an eye on the wounded. Come on! Move it! Go go go!” He watched the men pile into cars, sirens wailing to life as they shot away down the road one after another, the men in the leading car calling out for all civilians to stay inside, voices barely heard through the unrelenting gunfire as Hijikata ducked behind a trash can to escape the bullets .

“Toushi!” He looked up to see his commander gesturing wildly to him and bolted for the last patrol vehicle in the few seconds it took for the snipers to reload, piling in after Kondou, barely closing the door before the driver hit the gas and they bolted down the road. A bullet scraped dangerously past the back window, the shrill sound of glass cracking pounding on his skull before quiet descended upon the streets like a veil, and adrenaline retreated to make way for pain.

**oO0Oo**

He kept telling himself to breathe, and at least that was working.

Well, he thought it was.

Kondou might be calling his name, but he wasn’t entirely sure, because his left side was on fire, and for once in his life Hijikata wished for the cold sting of a winter snowstorm.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been shot in the four years he’s been at this job, of course he had, take his little bout with Tetsu’s brother for example. It’s just that every other time he had had enough time to reorient himself so that it hit an arm or leg instead, but this time if he tried, he might have thrown the kid into the line of fire. He wasn’t going to risk that.

He could feel his commander’s hand cradling the back of his neck, an anxious voice by his ear.

“Toushi? Oi Toushi! Stay with me, hey!” He nodded. 

The hand fell away, and Hijikata tensed, dragging in a sharp breath as Kondou came across the injury in his search for what was wrong.

“Yuji*.”

“Yessir.” The reply came from the driver’s seat.

“How long until we arrive.”

“At the speed we’re going, a little less than half an hour.”

“Good, keep it up.”

Something shifted beside him, and Hijikata gathered his scattering mind enough to realize that Kondou was groping in the trunk of the car and coming away with a first aid kit. Shoving the movable seat back into place, his commander unwrapped the bandages and peeled back the layers of clothing, crusted with blood drying unusually fast in the chill of a winter night that seeped through the cracks of the car.

Hijikata bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out as the fabric ripped away the scabbing, renewing the blood flow.

From the blackening sides of his vision, Hijikata saw the hints of confusion on his commander’s face as he looked through the contents of the box.

“Kondou-san… the gauze pad.” He saw the “aha” moment in Kondou’s brown eyes, and internally shook his head. It was a wonder this man lasted this long in this particular line of work. Despite the fact that and especially because he was their leader.

After several minutes of fumbling on Kondou’s part, Hijikata finally heard the lid to the box click shut, though he would be lying if he said the pain had lessened at all. If anything, it had worsened after the whole shenanigan, but at least the crude bandaging kept the bleeding at bay, and for now, he couldn’t quite ask for more.

**oO0Oo**

He spat out the bit of leather that the Shinsengumi’s on-site doctor** of four years gave to him as the old woman removed the bullet, and waited as she bandaged the wound. When he felt the steady hands leave his back, Hijikata pushed himself up, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his side, and pulled on his yukata with the doctor’s assistance.

“Toushirou-san, I’m just a field doctor, and considering where the bullet entered your body, I have to insist that you see a real doctor at the hospital,” she said. “I’ve cleaned the wound and made sure there aren’t any metal shards still lodged in it, so you’re safe from infection. You got lucky, Toushirou-san, they weren’t using bullets designed to flatten and splinter inside the victim’s body, or else we might not be so lucky.”

Hijikata heaved a sigh, only for his breath to hitch as the movement aggravated the injury, sending him into a short coughing fit. The old lady rubbed a few soothing circles into his back. “Promise me you’ll get it properly treated tomorrow. Latest.” Hijikata closed his eyes and nodded at the stern tone, and grabbed the side of a nearby chair to pull himself onto his feet. It… almost worked. When he staggered dangerously, the shorter woman grabbed his elbow to steady him, and shot him a scolding look.

“I’m calling someone to help you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t. Now stay put.”

“I’ll be  _ fine _ .” He insisted, and she gave him a skeptical glare. She always did make him feel like a rebellious child. “I swear!”

He’d really rather his men  _ not _ see him like this.

“Then at least take this.” She relented, and pinning him in place with a glare, rummaged through the closets until she pulled away with a wooden crutch. He took it, somewhat gladly.

As he made his way to the door, he heard her bustling around the room to clean up the mess her rowdy patients had made.

The door slid closed behind him, and Hijikata took a moment to slacken against the wall. It hurt like hell to move. It hurt like hell to do anything, really, but he pushed himself up and kept going, gaze fixated forward. The crutch thudded lightly against the wood as he made his way to his room in the quiet peace of midnight.

For god’s sake, what he wouldn’t give for a smoke right now. And some mayonnaise.

**oO0Oo**

He made it to the small chamber cleared out for him, a privilege the men stationed at the base reserved for him and Kondou-san, while the rest of the men squeezed themselves into two of the bigger halls they cleared out. Right now, he assumed they were down at the dining hall, or, really, the little room at the back of the barracks that Kondou-san and some of the other officers decorated a little and introduced as the “dining hall” looking very proud of themselves.

For now at least, he was glad it left him on his own, because he was panting like he just ran ten miles, and looked like he just ran fifty.

The ringing of his phone made him jolt, and he silently cursed at the goddamn wound. He hoped there wasn’t any internal bleeding.

He checked the caller ID, gunmetal blue eyes squinting a little at the sudden brightness in the dark room, and found himself letting slip a small smile as he took the call.

**oO0Oo**

Usually, he wasn’t one to initiate the call, but tonight, when the full moon rose higher and he was in his futon and the dog food addict still hadn’t rung, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Labored breaths greeted him from the other end of the line, and he tensed a little, but forced his voice to remain relaxed.

“Oi oi mayora-kun, snoring is for when you sleep you know.”

He heard the familiar “tch”, and Gintoki smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ishii Yujiro, historical member of the Shinsengumi. I shortened his name because I've noticed Kondou has a habit of either calling his men by their first name (Sougo), a nickname (Zaki), or both (Toushi, my personal favorite).
> 
> **I know that in the actual anime, every time we see a member of the Shinsengumi hurt (Toushi, mostly), they're in the hospital, but I assumed that they had to have someone back at base who is good with medicine so that the hospital isn't flooded with Shinsengumi members every time there's a failed raid. Thus, enter the good doctor. I hope you'll forgive the canon divergence.
> 
> Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/night.
> 
> See you next week.


	4. They Say History Repeats Itself, but I Think It Just Imitates Itself in the Lives of Your Loved Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not going to spend the end of my life strapped to machines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Welcome back. Miss me?
> 
> Disclaimer!   
> I have not been poisoned by ricin, nor have I poisoned someone with ricin for the purpose of this story, so I don't actually know how the symptoms manifest themselves, but I do know what the symptoms are from research, so what you see in this story is COMPLETELY my own personal interpretation, please take it with a sizable grain of salt. If you'd like, you can do some of you own digging. OR, if by some strange coincidence you have experienced ricin poisoning before (in with case, congratulations for surviving) and find my representation to be erroneous, please do let me know if you do not find sharing the experience too traumatic.
> 
> Now, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the ride.

It woke him in the early hours of dawn. 

The coughing hit hard and fast, and as he bolted upright in his futon, the sharp stab in his side pushed him to the side, landing him hard on his right elbow, shoulder protesting at the harsh jostle it received. He coughed into his hand, trying to muffle the harsh sound in the silence of the morning air. But they kept coming, and each one brought pain lancing up his back.

When it finally subsided, he fell into the mattress of the futon, too tired to care for the saliva that stained the sheets beneath his hand, trying to breathe but never quite getting enough to fill his lungs. Then the rooster called, a sturdy, aggressive thing he saw in the yard last night, and he forced himself to sit up, and started pulling on his uniform agonizingly slowly.

It took him a good twenty minutes to get properly dressed before he grabbed the wooden crutch by the bed and headed out. Pushing himself up, he opened the door and stepped into the chill, shivering a bit before heading straight for the dining hall. If he was prepared to do anything short of killing for some mayonnaise last night, now he was very much willing to kill to get some.

He slid open the shoji* and saw that Kondou-san and some men left in better health after their missions last night were already present, and just as he suspected, despite the recent failure weighing heavily on their shoulders, their commander had somehow gotten them all to smile. The man himself was laughing heartily when Hijikata limped in.

“Toushi! You’re here!” Several heads turned at the call, and a chorus of “good morning, vice commander” came from the small group as Kondou made his way to his second, clapping him firmly on the right shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Kondou gave him a bit of a suspicious look, but dropped it, and led him to their positions at the head of the group. As the chatter started up anew, Hijikata lowered himself to the ground and grabbed the yellow bottle his commander handed to him, piling the delicious condiment onto the noodles before he started shoveling food into his mouth, and by  _ god _ the hunger really hit when his stomach finally had something to digest.

He listened to the men chit chatting away, the voices and laughter rising steadily as more of them joined the rough little band in the small space. They mostly talked about the things they’ve heard about the streets surrounding the Ryugu palace, the street gangs, the night clubs, the good places to go for food et cetera. A few of them mentioned a wound they received last night, and they joked about the inevitable scars that the injuries were going to leave, about how it made them more of a man and whatnot.

But while he found the idle talk amusing to a certain extent, today they seemed too loud, louder than usual, at least. Maybe it was because the room was much smaller than the room back in Edo headquarters.

Untimely enough, he felt a cough rising to the surface, but as he swallowed hard to suppress it, Kondou bursted into laughter next to him at some joke one of the officers told, and slapped him on the back. Terrible timing.

This time it was worse, and when it finally went away, it left him panting in the silence, sweat gathering on his forehead and sliding down his face, his bowl overturned and forgotten.

The men were all watching him, a few already on their feet, worry in their eyes, and Kondou’s hand was on his back, the commander himself looking very lost and very concerned.

He  _ really _ didn’t need this right now.

Before anyone could say a thing, Hijikata grabbed the crutch and stood abruptly, ignoring the flare the sudden movement drew from the wound.

“Toushi-”

“Kondou-san, I’m fine.” He was already on his way to the door when he heard his commander get up after him. He blew out a breath and let his head hang a little, and he didn’t turn around. He saw some of the men with questions about his health on the tips of their tongues, but a sharp glare cut them off effectively.

“Are you sure?” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and turned him gently to face the commander. Hijikata let out a sigh at the worry in Kondou’s eyes, and closed his eyes against the sudden exhaustion.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just the cold.”

There was some shuffling around them as the men sat down again, or maybe more stood up, he didn’t entirely care.

“Come get me when the meeting starts,” was the only thing he left them with before he slid the door shut behind him, making his way to his room. He’s got some planning to do, but also something else before that.

“Toushirou-san.” He stopped, and let the doctor catch up to him. “You’re not going to go to the hospital.” He kept walking. “I’m not an idiot, vice commander, I’ve been working for police forces ever since I became a doctor, and I’ve seen my share of terrorism. I know ricin poisoning when I see it. It’s not exactly a rare weapon for more extreme factions.” They were almost at his room.

“If you go to the hospital now they can give you the appropriate medical support. With your physique and training, I’d say that gives you five days.” Two days longer than how long most victims last.

“I was always going to die for this job.” They were at his door, and he opened it with his free hand. “So if something decided that that time is going to come now, then let it.”

“But-”

“I’m not going to spend the end of my life strapped to machines.”

**oO0Oo**

The phone rang in the Yorozuya.

“Good morning, this is the Yorozuya, how may we help you?” Shinpachi’s polite voice floated through the living room. There was a brief silence as the person on the other side spoke. “Of course, let me go get him.” 

And then, “Gin-sannn!!!!”

“Whaaat?” Came the reply from the couch, muffled slightly by the volume of JUMP draped on his face.

“They want to talk to you.”

“Tell them I’m busy.”

“Gin-san, we’re already three months behind on the rent, we need this job, or else Tama-san is going to set us on fire.” Gintoki groaned unwillingly. “Gin-sannnn.” He finally dragged himself off the sofa, wishing the kid wasn’t so logic-and-reasons-that-actually- made-sense. Either way, he was sure he could stall for at least another month. He took the phone.

“Who is this?”

“Hello, Shiroyasha.” With a  _ click _ , Gintoki hung up, something uneasy rolling in his gut.

As expected, the phone rang again, and he picked it up, fingers tight around the receiver. The voice that spoke was considerably higher, but it was very obviously the same person going for a  _ very _ poor disguise. Gin rolled his eyes.

“Hello, is this the Yorozuya?”

“Yeah yeah. what do you want?”

(“Gin-san! Be more polite when you’re talking to a potential customer!”)

“I have a job for you in the Ryugu Palace.”

**oO0Oo**

The name on the envelope swam in his mind as he walked along the sidewalk towards the post office just a few blocks down. The thought that this was very possibly the last letter he will send almost made him write on the blank paper, but after staring at the pristin white of the page, and then the brush in his hand, he relented.

He had sighed and slid the paper into the envelope, informed Kondou that he would be back soon, and set off down the street.

As he walked, he pondered the Shinsengumi’s next step and how they were going to stop the extremists from burning the city to the ground, if only to drown out the wonders of whether they would be waiting for him on the other side. Or perhaps it was to distract from the fact they wouldn’t be. Heaven was no place for bloodstained people like him, after all.

He eventually made it to the post office and slid the envelope into the red mailbox before starting back to the barracks.

It started snowing again, and he shivered against the chill. Stopping in a patch of sunlight, he leaned back against a wall, trying to soak up the heat, because he was so tired, and so  _ cold _ .

He thought he drifted off for a split second, and when he came to again, it was to a familiar voice. 

He opened his eyes to silver hair and wine red eyes.

“The hell are you doing here?” He mumbled.

“Wow Hijikata-kun, we talk for the first time in months and I get ‘what are you doing here’?? That’s just cruel.” But his words lacked their usual melodramatic drawl as Gintoki lifted dark bangs and pressed the base of his hand to Hijikata’s forehead. The vice commander’s head tilted back a little at the pressure, and his eyes slid to slits because his hand was so  _ warm _ .

“What happened?”

“Raid went wrong.” He shook himself awake and pushed off the wall, shrugging off Gintoki’s hand. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re not the only one with a job.”

“Yeah, right. Name the last time you paid for a meal.”

“I paid for the dumplings last time!”

“With money from  _ my  _ wallet!!”

“Drastic times call for drastic measures!”

“Tch.”

The coughing cut off whatever the perm was going to say next.

The crutch clattered to the ground and the dull pain in Hijikata's back flared to a vicious throbbing, throwing him off balance, and he nearly toppled over if not for the hand that grabbed his elbow, steadying him as he doubled over. The coughs rubbed against the inside of his chest like sandpaper, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t  _ breathe _ .

He heard Gintoki’s voice through the pain, stiff with tension.

It finally subsided, but the breathlessness lingered, and this time, it didn’t go away. The perm had a hand on the vice commander’s shoulder and another on his opposite elbow, practically holding him upright. His breaths came in short, shallow pants, and his chest felt so tight it was going to burst, and he was suddenly cold again, so,  _ so _ cold. The sweat on his face felt like they’ve frozen into icy trinkets that sent chills down his neck, and he was shivering again, the v-shaped bangs Gintoki loved to tease so much plastered uncomfortably to his forehead.

“Let’s get you home.” The sugar freak sounded uncharacteristically subdued. Suddenly Hijikata’s arm was being slung over a sturdy shoulder, his side pressing up against the other samurai’s. He felt the blood rush to his face, and tried in vain to pull away.

“I can still walk!”

“Sure you can, Mr. I-sound-like-a-broken-refrigerator.”

“What does a broken refrigerator even sound like??”

“Probably like how you sound right now.”

“Probably??”

“Well I’ve never heard a broken refrigerator before! Gin-san is very fond of his strawberry milk and likes to keep it cold and fresh when he needs it.”

“What does this have to do with your milk addiction?!”

“Because you sound like a broken refrigerator!”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t walk!!”

“Of course it does! Have you ever seen a refrigerator that walks?”

“Who the hell’s a refrigerator!”

“Good refrigerators always let the workers from the moving company move them quietly to their house.”

“Where did that analogy come from??”

“Come  _ on _ .”

Hijikata planted his feet into the ground. This was embarrassing. Two grown men in public like this!

“What, Oogushi-kun, would you rather I carry you back like a princess? Is that it?” A vein popped in Hijikata’s neck at the bizarre suggestion.

“Like hell! I’d kick your ass first!”

It went on for a while longer, but Gin-san insisted that the audience would get bored if all we focus on is their banter, so for the sake of their sanity we skip the rest of it.

**oO0Oo**

Gintoki finally relented to accompanying Hijikata back to the barracks, bearing the wet rasps of breaths that sawed into the nicotine bastard’s lungs, the teases that he threw along their walk serving to keep his growing unrest at bay. The person next to him seemed too frail, and reminded him too much of the labored breathing of wounded soldiers crawling for the limp form of their best friends on the battlefield, not to mention…

Best not to think about her, he decided.

They reached the station, and Gintoki placed a hand on Hijikata's chin, stealing a quick kiss and watching with a certain fondness as the vice commander turned a very flustered shade of scarlet. For it Gintoki received a half-hearted glare. It's cute, but he didn't say it out loud in favor of keeping all of his limbs.

"Be careful," he said, and lamented how far they were from the Yorozuya. Taking Hijikata back there and pampering him a little seemed very tempting. But alas, it was a childish notion, and both of them had work to do. Hijikata nodded, and Gintoki saw him smile, a small thing that often passed between them, yet it never did fail to soften his own exaggerated smirk.

Once Hijikata disappeared inside the gates of the station, Gintoki turned and made his way to a nearby building, where his supposed employer would meet him and give him his task.

He arrived at the designated spot, but it wasn’t a man that greeted him, but an amanto, dog-headed and on crutches, legs wobbling and calves swollen to twice their normal size.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shoji is a Japanese wooden sliding door
> 
> Ok confession time (here's what I got, my soldiers'll tell you I'm a terrible shot- ok moving on): that last scene, the part where Gin-san steals a kiss, yeah that wasn't planned. I was editing before posting it and some part of my brain just went: hey uh, fEED ME. So I did, you're welcome. 
> 
> Now go enjoy your day, and I'll see you next week :)


	5. Whether Selfishness is a Good Thing Entirely Depends on Whether You're the Right Person in the Right Place at the Right Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a katana breaks, the samurai must find and learn to fight with a new one, he said, yet the broken blade never stopped to consider the possibility that the samurai does not want to give it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Toushi! (yes I know it was technically yesterday but my set update time is Wednesdays so shh)
> 
> Anyway welcome back welcome back, I hope you had fun with the last chapter, because it's only going downhill from there (I say that as if it hadn't started going downhill already). But that is your one and only warning so proceed with caution.
> 
> Now have fun and I love you all.

Hijikata returned to the station in a frenzy, officers scrambling to the shouted orders from their squad leaders. As one ran past him, the vice commander grabbed his arm, and the man nearly keeled over at the sudden drop in momentum before he regained his footing and gave Hijikata a quick salute.

“What happened?” His voice was still breathless and his breaths shallow, and he knew they wouldn’t be deepening again any time soon.

“Headquarters was attacked this morning by amanto extremists,” the officer reported. “When the battle ended, they found the prisoner was rescued. We received the call a few moments ago and Kondou-san told us to get as ready as we can because we are probably next. He said these extremists are very revenge driven.”

“What’s the status on the wounded.”

“Including men from the raid yesterday, seventeen with minor to intermediate wounds. The ones here have already been treated by Kozue-san, and she is on her way back to headquarters to treat those there. Two were seriously injured and being treated at O-Edo General Hospital.”

“I need names of the ones in the hospital.”

“Amaji Issen and Otani Ryusuke*, sir.”

“Have someone alert the hospital staff of the threat tomorrow morning and,” he stopped to breathe, “transfer as many patients to hospitals outside Edo as possible, including our men. Then evacuate the city before the rebels burn it down.” The officer took a moment to digest the information.

“Understood.”

“Good. Where’s Kondou-san.”

“In the study with some of the captains, trying to figure out our next move.” He gave a confirming nod and waved the man off, barely able to keep his breaths even, taking note of the brief look of worry before the officer ran off. At least a bit sure that everyone was either too far away or too busy to pay him much attention, Hijikata sagged a little against his crutch, too tired to do anything but stand and breathe for a few seconds before he pushed himself towards the study. Planning wasn’t Kondou’s strong suit, because the soul led with passion, and the mind brought the logic.

He didn’t consider what happens when the mind dies.

It was also at least 20% of the reason Hijikata was part of the Shinsengumi.

He opened the door and left no time for any expression of concern. “Fill me in.”

Harada spoke up. “We were thinking about how to fortify the station-”

“Don’t bother,” Hijikata threw down the crutch and sat next to his commander. “Kondou-san, we have to focus on evacuating Edo. Given the current situation, we have a day, a day and a half if we’re lucky, before the bastards decide to set things on fire.” This would usually be where he lit a cigarette, but Kozue-san apparently took them all, and he fingers closed on nothing in his jacket pocket. So he just continued, annoyed. “These bastards are trying to send a message, so they aren’t moving at night. They’ve just managed to secured the prisoner and barely kept their forces intact after our attack, they aren’t going to move tomorrow. They’ll probably move the day after, likely in early morning.”

He’s got their attention now, awaiting the next command. He stopped talking, and waited for Kondou to take the wheel.

“Harada, take the men from your unit and go back to headquarters, move everyone available and start evacuating Edo,” Kondou said. “Ask Sougo to start going after the Joui.”

“Takeda,” Hijikata continued. “Gather your unit and take care of things at the hospital tomorrow, they should already be getting ready. Saitou, take your unit, and Yamazaki, to guard Matsudaira inside the Ryugu Palace. If there’s any paperwork involved, have Tetsu bring them to me. You should be inside no later than tomorrow night**. If there is any more delay, station yourselves around the palace and guard him from there. Got it?”

“Yessir.”

“Get going.”

Once they were all gone, Hijikata stood too, losing his footing for a split second before he caught himself.

“Toushi. Get some rest.”

“I'm fine.”

“No you’re not! Let me handle the paperwork.”

“Not this time, Kondou-san, these need to go through fast, and you don’t have time to figure it out.” Speaking this much made his chest hurt. But Kondou didn’t need to know that.

“But-”

“I’m  _ fine _ . I just don’t like the cold.” Kondou wanted to stop him, Hijikata could tell, but this time, just like most other times, Kondou couldn’t argue with his logic.

“Don’t worry, Kondou-san,” he turned to face his commander. “When this whole thing is over, I’ll rest.” Kondou perked up at that, and smiled heartily at Hijikata. Looking at that smile, Hijikata didn’t say “forever”.

**oO0Oo**

The paperwork took him into midnight. 

When the clock struck twelve, Hijikata’s vision was swimming, and he could feel a headache setting in. Driving the palms of his hands into his eyes, he told himself to stay awake, but when he brought them away, everything was just a little fuzzier. In his exhaustion induced carelessness, Hijikata allowed himself to fall onto his back.

He tried to swallow the cry that squeezed out anyway in a strangled noise, and though he wanted to flip onto his right side to ease the pain, the muscles in his back protested with a ferocity, and he fell back onto the injury. He muffled the cry with his hand before he descended into another coughing fit.

Breathing was becoming harder as time wore on, trudging along in its slow contentment, but at the same time, going so long without a cigarette had made him giddy with withdrawal. The breaths he tried to draw in failed him, and they grew shallower as each fit subsided. There was still paperwork to do, but he was just so  _ tired _ . He put the cup of his palm to his forehead, and even to him it felt too warm.

Regardless, he pushed himself onto his elbows, then his palms; at least the pain woke him up a little, and his vision refocused under the white light of the lamp. Flipping through the rest of the pages, he was glad to find that he only had three left.

He read for another fifteen minutes, and his last signature finished with a slight quaver.

When he fell onto his back again, exhaustion overrode the pain, and it took mere seconds for Hijikata to fall asleep.

**oO0Oo**

The call Gintoki received that night was another job request. It brought his heart to his throat and left him staring at the phone for long minutes after Shinpachi and Kagura had already fallen sound asleep, clenching it so hard the framing cracked under the strain.

_ That fucking idiot. _

**oO0Oo**

Hijikata woke to confusion, the cold, and a rough, calloused hand on his forehead. He didn’t think much before he tried to take ahold of the fingers by his side. “‘m cold…” He said. The hand left his forehead and he shivered. Then he was being pulled off the ground, a hand cupping his back, and into an embrace that was so warm he let himself melt into the familiar presence and gentle silver light.

“Go back to sleep.”

**oO0Oo**

In the later hours of dawn, he called Tetsu to his room and handed him the papers to run to the palace before he went outside to see the men moving briskly about the grounds: Harada gathering his unit to set off for the two-hour-long drive back to headquarters, Takeda counting heads as they prepared to leave for the hospital, and Saitou and his silent men (and Yamazaki) disappearing like shadows out the gate.

He leaned against the wooden door frame for a moment just to watch them and hoped, just a bit, that dying didn’t go hand in hand with forgetting.

**oO0Oo**

By evening, at least half of Edo’s residents had left their homes with a few essential belongings and gathered in the Yakunai Shelter outside the city’s borders under the Shinsengumi’s instructions, and the 3rd division squad successfully gained access to the interior of the Ryugu Palace in order to guard Matsudaira.

Hijikata hadn’t heard from Gintoki since last night, and in between moments of unrelenting exhaustion and piling tasks, he wondered what job he accepted.

The door to his room slid open as Hijikata went through the various reports that came in a few hours ago, and he looked up to see Kondou entering.

“What is it, Kondou-san?” Hijikata remained seated, not trusting himself to remain on his feet if he were to stand.

“I just received word from Sougo that they spotted what looked like the prisoner and Yorozuya talking. They sent Shinno after them but he hasn’t reported back.”

Hijikata was quiet.

“Toushi, if it turns out Yorozuya is working with the extremists, what will you do?” He was quiet a little longer, then he scoffed.

“I’ll kill him.”  _ And drag him down to hell with me. _

He started coughing again, each time more painful than the last as his lungs slowly lost their function. They always left him desperately panting now, and he pulled at his scarf because he was suddenly too hot. He had taken off his jacket hours ago, but nothing really helped. Kondou was kneeling next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Toushi, this isn’t-”

“I’m fine!” He nearly snapped. “Just… tired.”

“Toushi…” Hijikata turned at the plea, coming face-to-face with his commander, and for the third time in two days, he felt a hand on his forehead. He tried to move it away, but too late. He always did things a little too late. He felt stern fingers encircle his arm. “You’re going to get some sleep. That’s an order.”

Unable to break free of Kondou’s strong grip, Hijikata could only relent, letting his commander help him to his feet, but was immediately reminded of why he hadn’t stood in the first place.

Blood rushed to his head, and black spots erupted in his vision. The sudden movement triggered protest from his lungs, and he was coughing again and he couldn’t  _ fucking breathe _ . Strong hands were on his shoulder as Hijikata dropped to his knees, the impact sending pain crashing up his back, but he couldn’t cry out through the coughing, and an attempt to only encouraged the fit as the sound was trapped in his throat. This time when his hand fell from his face, utterly exhausted, it stained the tatami mat red. 

Alarm was growing in Kondou’s voice, but Hijikata was too drained to snap back a response. The world was reeling, spinning out of control, and darkness danced in front of him like the taunts and jeers of times long past. He felt the fever teeter on the verge of delirium, and when he tried to gasp unsuccessfully for air, it forced a long exhale that left him so disoriented he didn’t hear Kondou’s urgent calls or the shoji sliding open with a  _ bang _ .

Everything faded in and out of focus after that behind a smokey grey veil, and he was faintly aware of being gathered into strong arms and rushed outside. 

Whatever followed was to him nothing more than flashes of color and sound.

A car door slammed shut, sweltering heat, the welcomed chill of the window against his temple, biting cold, terrified voices, unfamiliar voices… a mask on his face, brief panic-

Then nothing. Nothing at all.

**oO0Oo**

They rushed him to the O-Edo General Hospital that night pleading with the medical staff. They were lucky, and a few older, more experienced doctors volunteered to stay despite the risks, and they disappeared behind the swinging doors of the ER.

For the second day in a row, Gintoki did not see the familiar caller ID on his cracked phone screen.

**oO0Oo**

He woke once, briefly, after they pronounced his condition stable or the time being, and found himself strapped to machines after all, the too-white walls of the hospital glowing with cleanliness even in the dead of night. The oxygen mask on his face made him a little jittery, and when he shifted around a little in a weak attempt to make himself more comfortable, someone next to him jolted awake. Too tired to turn his head, Hijikata let his eyes wander around the room and come to rest on the anxious figure by his side. 

“Kondou-san…” the mask made it incredibly difficult to talk, but somehow he managed. “What are you doing… here.”

“Take care of you, idiot.” His commander's words were clipped, and he sounded like he’d been crying. That didn’t sit well with Hijikata, at all. Even less so because he was the reason. “When were you going to tell me about this?” Normally, he would have come up with an excuse, but today, he just shook his head, or tried to, the tubes made it hard. “Of course,” Kondou sounded indignant now. “You weren’t going to.  _ Toushi _ , how many times do I have to tell you-”

“You should be leading them.” He said quietly. Kondou seized his hand, jostling him a little. He squeezed his eyes shut as to not make a sound. He knew Kondou noticed, but for once the man didn’t relent.

“I’m not just going to leave you here, Toushi. You’re my friend and my brother, and the thought of losing you makes me so  _ scared _ . I just…” Kondou paused, and Hijikata hated that he had to push his commander away. The loud and boisterous man shouldn’t be crying, least of all for him. “Let me be selfish once, Toushi.  _ Please. _ ” The plea nearly broke his resolve, but Hijikata looked Kondou in the eye, and the still-sharp blue depths told the commander he must not do so.

“I’m sorry, Kondou-san, but the Shinsengumi can’t afford to be selfish in a time like this.” He said. “You have to go lead them especially because I’m here… You’re our soul, Kondou-san, I’m just one of the blades that do their best to defend it, and if… a katana breaks, the swordsman has to find a new one and learn to fight with it, but if he loses his soul…” unconsciousness nudged him time and again, like that oversized white dog asking for scratches under its chin, his eyelids drooped dangerously. “He’s nothing but a walking corpse.” The fingers on his hand went slack, but when Kondou still seemed reluctant, Hijikata forced his commander to look at him. Kondou talked first, though.

“Sougo’s furious. And worried out of his mind.” That made Hijikata pause, the memories shoved to the back of his mind resurfacing. Of course, the brat had every right to be angry. In fact, he’s surprised he hadn’t busted into the hospital and taught him a lesson yet. Hijikata made himself to ignore her fragile back floating behind his eyelids every time he blinked.

“You’ll find a new sword one day, Kondou-san,” he said instead. “Trust me, but right now you have to go.  _ Please. _ ” His commander finally stood up, and Hijikata closed his eyes again. He felt a hand brush through his hair once, just like it used to in Bushuu, years and years ago. Then footsteps echoed softly through the empty halls, growing ever fainter until silence descended upon the night like the curtains of a magic show.

‘Perhaps,’ he thought. ‘You’ll even remember the broken blade.’

**oO0Oo**

The sun had barely risen when Gintoki slipped in through the attic window of the Ryugu Palace with Shinpachi and Kagura. That was their first job apparently, to kidnap the womanizing old man, given by amanto who looked at them like cattle. Gintoki wasn’t exactly sure what stopped him from sticking a sword down their throat.

Ah, maybe because it would be a waste of a good sword.

But he knew the reason and hated it. There was a doctor among their ranks who had, in league with amanto experts, developed a cure to ricin poisoning some years ago, and now he was forced to play double agent. For god’s sake, didn’t these people understand that girls don’t like double-faced guys?? That one villain from the movies, what was his name? Two-face? You don’t see girl swooning over  _ him _ , do you?

At least that was what he said, although Gin-san had been more eager for this job than Kozue-san, and she hired him.

They landed quieter than cats on a hunt, barely making a creak on the wooden floor. Yet they were almost immediately intercepted by one Saitou Shimaru lying in wait. Wooden and metal blades clashed briefly before the two samurai sprang apart, the 3rd division commander poised to spring again while Gintoki lowered his weapon. As quiet as the soldiers were, Gintoki felt the vibration on the wood beneath his feet.

They were surrounded.

“Oi oi Afro-kun, didn’t your idiot commander tell you to look before you attack someone?” Saitou raised a notebook above his head, and it gave him a very comical look in the clash between the silly flapping pages and his murderous demeanor.

_ They saw you working with the rebels. _

“Afro-kun, you don’t read enough JUMP,” Gintoki drawled, deliberately slowing down his speech as if talking to a young child. “You see, when you see a friend together with the enemy, they’re almost  _ always  _ a double agent.” Shinpachi promptly smacked his boss over the head at that (“Gin-san, you’re the only one your age that still reads JUMP, and I’m not even sure they consider us friends.”), and, leaving Gintoki to massage his scalp, took the floor.

“Saitou-san, we have information on the rebels, and we can help get Matsudaira-san out of range before they make their move.”

Saitou relaxed a little bit, but remained in a defensive position. Out came the notebook again.

_ Prove it. _

“Good grief you tax robbers are annoying.” Gintoki groaned before he tossed the bokuto onto the ground at his feet. Kagura and Shinpachi followed suit. Only then did it seem that they’ve convinced the 3rd division commander, and the men surrounding them faded again into the shadows.

Regardless, the trio picked up their weapons under watchful eyes and glimmering katanas.

“You better be paying me in parfaits  _ and _ strawberry milk for this trouble.” Gintoki mumbled as he followed Saitou through the winding halls of the palace to a room, presumably where Matsudaira was, with two serious-looking Shinsengumi officers guarding the door. Actually, who was he kidding, all Shinsengumi people looked serious. Sticks in the mud…

Kagura slid the door open, and the kids had just stepped into the room when Saitou picked up his radio, a panicked voice cackling through the com.

Gintoki didn’t hear exactly what it said, but watching Saitou’s eyes shift from their usual dead calm to widened terror gave him a hint. Whipping out his pen and notebook, afroman here scribbled something down hastily before shoving the pages in Gintoki’s face.

_ They set the hospital on fire, moved sooner than we thought they would. All forces still mobilized with evacuation. _

Then the silver samurai was running, the confused calls of the kids pushed to the back of his mind as he made a wild sprint for the hospital, where someone lay dying and alone, because the Shinsengumi couldn’t afford to be selfish.

But the Yorozuya sure as hell could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Otani Ryusuke was a historical member of the Shinsengumi.
> 
> **I have no idea how realistic this time frame is for how long it takes paperwork to go through (it probably takes a lot longer), but for the sake of this story I'm going to keep it like this because I am very limited by my decision to use ricin, given it takes three days to kill, and it's already been... two I believe, since our boy was exposed, so... sorry.
> 
> ***Ok I'm not deep enough in the DC fandom to know whether girls actually swoon for two-face aka Harvey Dent, but if you do in fact swoon for him, please do not consider this a personal attack against you it is just Gintoki being Gintoki. 
> 
> I admit there were a few quite un-Gintama-y moments in this chapter, and I apologize, but I really did try to make the otherwise super serious story have some fun moments. If I succeeded, let me know, if I failed miserably, also let me know so I can fix it so that it is more enjoyable the second time around :)
> 
> Hey so shameless self plug here do feel free to ignore this (in the case that you do, have a good day and I hope you enjoyed :)). So I started up a drawing account on Instagram @fan_miyun. I post fanart sometimes (I've been religiously drawing our favorite boys lately haha) and sometimes my own ocs. I've just figured out how to digital art properly (well, "properly") so I'm really trying to grow it. But that's it I hope it wasn't too long or too annoying, but if you're interested, give me a follow, I'll love you even more than I already do for reading the story and this rant <3
> 
> Real heckers long note, I know, I'm sorry ;; 
> 
> Anyway, see you next week, love ya!


	6. Sometimes Life is too Fragile, and it Slips Through Your Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart nearly stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back ;)
> 
> Oh my goodness AP exams are upon us! My first one (chem) is tomorrow and I'm freaked out of my mind, so I'm here doing this to destress x(. Anyway, good luck to anyone still taking them and shoutout to people who already did.
> 
> Now if you're here I assume you're either procrastinating (bad >:( )or have finished APs or aren't doing APs, so buckle in, we're going right to the edge of the cliff today.

Gintoki bursted through the double doors of the hospital like a lion leaping through a ring of fire, and immediately grabbed a nurse running past him. The man struggled briefly, staring at Gin with wide, terrified eyes.

“Where’s your patient?” He demanded, and the man stopped struggling long enough to talk.

“Room 109 down the hall. Now let me go, please!” Gintoki scoffed, shoving the man hard enough to make him stumble, but towards safety nonetheless.

When he sprinted down the corridor, a few more doctors rushed past him, covering their nose and mouth against the rising smoke. By the time Gintoki made it to the room and pushed the door open, grabbing the sword carelessly tossed by the entrance, he was rubbing at his own eyes.

He put his hand on the shoulder of the older doctor bent over the familiar figure stretched out on the bed. The man looked up at him, coughing a little, eyes wide with fear and determination. “I’ll handle it from here.” Gintoki told him, and the man seemed unwilling, eyes flitting back to his patient behind rectangular glasses. “Go.” The man looked to and fro between them one more time and nodded, peeling off his mask.

“We just barely managed to stabilize him last night. His lungs are too fragile, so be careful.” Gintoki nodded, cursing at the fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep Hijikata safe during their escape, and the man ran for the door as the samurai looked down at the demon vice commander, and felt his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest.

Hijikata was still in his uniform, eyes shut and brows furrowed against the nightmares snarling behind flitting eyelids. A gas mask was strapped hastily to his face, the inside clouding rapidly with the vice commander’s every breath. With a heaviness in his hands, Gintoki forced himself to pull the mask away from his partner’s face. The flames were practically licking at his yukata now, and they didn’t have time. 

“Toushirou!” Gintoki shook his shoulder, watching as heavy lids fluttered open under long lashes to reveal gunmetal blue, faded with fever and sedatives. “We have to go. Get up.” He slid his arm under the vice commander’s back and brought him to a sitting position, slinging one limp arm over his own shoulders. His chest squeezed again at the short, tired gasps next to his ear. “Come _ on _ .”

Suddenly, Gintoki felt a light tug on the katana in his hand, and turned to look into dazed but determined blue eyes. He let go, and Hijikata clutched the weapon in a white-knuckled grip as his feet hit the ground. The two men stumbled when the vice commander’s legs folded beneath him

By the time he was back on his feet, the door’s wooden frame had been assaulted by the fire, and the two of them took one look at it before the whole thing collapsed in on itself.

“Well, Oogushi-kun, guess we’re taking the window.”

As they threw themselves at the window, Gintoki heard the mumbled “the hell’s Oogushi-kun.” Then shattered glass was flying as they broke through, and Gintoki wrapped his arm around the black-clad figure next to him.

They landed hard on the dirt, the air driven out of Gintoki’s lungs as Hijikata fell on top of him. Flipping to his side, Gintoki eased the vice commander onto the ground, but dust billowed up anyway around the two men, and Hijikata, lungs too frail and sensitive, started coughing at once. Immediately Gintoki was pulling his partner off the ground, a hand around his waist to support the man’s buckling legs as Hijikata tried to stand. Then they looked up to see a fire-engulfed Edo.

And amanto.

Great.

**oO0Oo**

The wooden blade drove through an amanto’s mouth and out the back of its head, and Gintoki barely had time to pull it out before they were running again, the buildings on either of them spitting fire into the graying sky. He didn’t look at them though, as he half carried Hijikata along the dirt road, bokuto stained the scarlet of human blood, teeth clenched dangerously and pupils contracting in disgust at each amanto that jumped into his way.

_ You couldn’t protect Edo. _

His blade crossed with a spear, sparks flying. They traded several blows in the span of seconds, and as Gintoki ducked under the spearhead, the presence by his side disappeared abruptly. Free to move, he flipped onto his back, kicking at the spear and sending it spinning into the air. Before the amanto could react, the bokuto pierced its throat. At the same time, Gintoki heard a guttural howl behind him. Whirling, he saw Hijikata on his knees, blood dripping from his blade and an amanto dead by his side, the Inuisei’s blade still poised in position to strike at Gintoki.

He caught the vice commander as Hijikata swayed, again looping an arm around his shoulder and bringing them to a stand. They  _ had _ to keep running, but Gintoki saw with growing concern that Hijikata was barely able to stay on his feet, and every time they attempted to take a step, his left leg gave out, dragging the two men onto the dusty ground. Gin’s eyes were stinging fiercely at this point from the smoke that surrounded them, and even he was coughing periodically from the prolonged exposure.

For Hijikata, it was almost constant now, the wheezing and hacking, and even amidst the blistering heat of the firestorm, Gintoki felt the feverish warmth where Hijikata’s head lolled like a ragdoll against his neck. He wanted to stop and yell at Toushirou to stay with him so bad it hurt, but they had no time. They never had any time. Gintoki pushed on, heart lurching at every staggered step the man next to him took.

A harsh wrench to his shoulder flung Gintoki to the side, the weight by his side suddenly disappeared, and adrenaline spiked as his heart rate practically doubled. He whipped around and froze.

A Shinra had Hijikata tight in his grasp, a slender hand wrapped around the vice commander’s pale neck, sharp nails digging into skin and forcing his head back until it was nearly parallel to the ground. In the alien’s other hand, a short sword held too close to Hijikata’s throat. The demon’s trembling hands scrabbled hopelessly at the strong ones holding him in place.

One wrong move, and someone precious to him would be gone forever.

_ Again. _

“Don’t move.” The Shinra commanded, so Gintoki didn’t. He stood there, knuckles white in his deathly grip on the wooden katana, shoulders tense with anger, yet he stayed still as a statue, even when Hijikata’s half-lidded, dazed eyes haunted every corner of his vision, even when weak coughs wracked the already frail body. Even when blades sliced across his back, his abdomen, his arms, Gintoki was still, like a snake coiling to attack.

The alien drove a knee into Hijikata’s back, and only a whimper escaped, as if he couldn’t even spare the energy to cry out anymore, back arching in the amanto’s hold.

The Shiroyasha sprang.

The wooden sword shattered the blade held to Hijikata’s throat, reorienting mid-strike as the amanto tried to use the vice commander as a human shield, gliding swiftly under a few strands of Hijikata’s raven hair and catching the tip of the amanto’s pointy ear, shaving it clean off. The alien hissed, though it sounded more in panic than pain, and Gintoki noticed the lack of blood as the tip fell to the ground. The bokuto broke through the creature’s long, blue hair and snagged on a strand, and Gintoki took the chance to place both his hands on the bokuto’s handle and heave downwards. But the Shinra (?) spun out of the way just in time, and the wooden blade slammed into the ground, leaving a small crater in its wake as Gintoki swung it around for a renewed assault. 

The Shinra blocked it with the stump of his wakizashi*, a sharp-nailed hand still settled too close to Hijikata’s windpipe.

Gintoki leapt into the air as another blade swept under his feet, and twisted as yet another flew at his side. It threw him off balance, and Gintoki landed on his back, biting back a hiss as open wounds slammed into the ground, barely managing to block out the third katana swiping down at his chest. 

Pushing the attacker away, he sprang back onto his feet, falling into something akin to a backbend to evade a scythe that swung above his head, and used the momentum to kick into a backflip that drove his heel into the enemy’s face.

Once he was upright again, Gintoki turned and rushed at the Shinra, the bokuto poised to strike at the creature’s right. As expected, the alien practically threw Hijikata in front of the blade in human shield fashion, waiting for the movement to drag Gintoki off balance.

Having seen that coming for the past five seconds, the samurai drove the bokuto into the ground, the tip of the sword sinking into the dirt as Gintoki leapt into the air, using the katana as an anchor. The back of his foot connected with the amanto’s cheek, sending the creature sprawling, the man in his grip crumbling.

Landing from his kick, Gin pulled Hijikata to him as the man collapsed into another coughing fit, the bruising and cuts around the upper part of his neck making Gintoki see red.

“Look around you.” A voice sneered from behind the two men. “Lovely job protecting Edo,  _ Shiroyasha _ .” The sting from the smoke suddenly seemed stronger, the flames brighter as they raged across town, the dirt road cleaving through the storm, fire finding nothing but dust on the winding trail.

“Edo isn’t a place,” Gintoki heard himself say. “It’s a people.”

“Well, I daresay…”

Gintoki brought Hijikata into his chest and let the sword from behind pierce through his shoulder. He flipped the bokuto and drove into the amanto’s stomach, hearing a pained croak from behind him before pulling out the katana, teeth gritted against the sudden lightheadedness as blood fountained from the wound. 

“Soon it won’t be anything at all.”

The bokuto slammed through the Shinra’s throat, securing the satisfied smile on his face until flames found his corpse.

**oO0Oo**

They staggered out of the flames and promptly got a shower of ice cold water in the face as firefighters did their best to contain the flames (“Oi oi, watch where you’re spraying!”). From the sound of it, the Shinsengumi weren’t far off, and Gintoki wiped the water off his face just in time to see Kagura force someone onto their knees before the gorilla.

If Hijikata had had any shreds of consciousness left, they dissipated the moment he seemed to register the fact that they made it, and he went completely limp in Gintoki’s arms. The Shinsengumi’s men surrounded them in seconds, trying to pull the vice commander from Gintoki’s side, but he wasn’t letting go.

Not this time.

The bloodstained samurai scooped Hijikata into his arms, noting with rising anxiety that the latter’s lips seemed to be taking on a blue hue from the lack of oxygen as his breaths became shallower and farther in between, and made his way directly to the man kneeling and groveling on the ground.

“Where’s the antidote.” Gintoki all but snarled, and the man jolted, looking up at him with terror, and then betrayal. Yet, when he saw the figure gripped in Gin’s arms, head dropped bonelessly against the crook of his neck, the man started laughing, and laughing, and laughing as if he’d fallen into hysteria.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU GET-” He screeched between giggles. “THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!!” He fell backwards onto the ground, dust billowing around him. Gintoki took a step back, his right arm shifting to keep Hijikata’s head away from the floating specks. In the dust, the hostage is rolling with laughter, eyes suddenly crazed and bloodshot, taking no note of the blades at his neck or the murderous glints in the eyes of so many officers, including Kondou Isao.

The bastard laughed so hard he wheezed for air, his bare feet kicking.

Only then do they notice the blood-soaked bandages on his heels.

Several of the men seemed to pale at the sight, and in a flash Kondou had the prisoner pinned to the ground by his throat. “What’s your name.” The commander demanded, voice low and gruff.

The man stopped laughing for a second, still smiling like a maniac, to spit out a name.

“Furutaka Shuntarou.”

**oO0Oo**

A hush fell over the Shinsengumi, shock etched into wide eyes.

“You’re… human.” A whisper escaped, and Kagura seemed ready to make an answer when Hijikata coughed again, the small sound loud in the silence and sending the commander into a rage.

“Where is the antidote?” Kondou growled. The man made no answer. “WHERE IS IT?!” Nothing.

“Kondou-san,” a cool voice floated above the crowd. “You’re strangling him.” With a half surprised look at the man (turning purple) beneath his hand, the gorilla shot to his feet, leaving Furutaka to cough out his chest, a hand rubbing at his throat, not only at the reddish purple bruises, but also at the torn skin just below them, tattered as if someone had put tape on it then ripped it off.

He didn’t get much respite though, as the young, sandy-haired sadist squatted down before him, the tip of a blade hovering above the rebel’s toes.

“Hijikata isn’t very good at his job, but I am.” The man had stopped smiling a long time ago, but now he looked like he had just seen a ghost. The blade dipped, and rested upon the man’s nails. “I see he went for the heels. Not a very smart move, wouldn’t you say?” The man trembled. “Personally, I’ve always found it more fun to go for removing nails.” The tip sank in, and the man screamed much louder than he needed to, all his bravado from a moment ago thrown out the window.

“I don’t have it. I don’t have it!”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe you were crazy enough to hide it inside.” The tip dropped to the man’s heels, poking and prodding like it was playing a game. The man was wailing. 

“I DON’T! I REALLY DON’T!”

“Okita-san!” From where he had sat down, Gintoki turned wine red eyes to glasses and orange afro. “She has it.” A young girl, 18 at most, was thrown to the ground by one of Saitou’s men. If possible, Furutaka’s wild eyes grew wider. He tried to lurch towards the girl, but cowered when Sougo’s blade threatened to dig into his heel.

“Ah Shimaru-niisan, you’re back.”

_ His daughter. _ The notebook read. Behind him, Shinpachi stepped up.

“Amaji-san saw her visiting Furutaka in the hospital since they were in the same room. He pretended to be asleep and overheard the exchange of the medicine.”

“I’m not giving it to you!” The girl, wrists tied together, struggled to a sitting position.

Sougo stood and padded over to her, and as Gintoki’s eyes followed him, he caught the shallow rise and fall of Hijikata’s chest, then an impossible stillness.

His heart nearly stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Wakizashi is a Japanese short sword worn by samurai in pair with their katanas, this combination of blades is called a daisho, or, directly translated, "big small."
> 
> Ok guys guys, when I was editing this I came up with the pun of the century when Sougo says "I don't know, maybe you were crazy enough to hide it inTHIGHde." Badum tssssss-
> 
> Ok have a good morning/afternoon/night, and I'll see you next week.
> 
> Sailboat out.


	7. If You Say Something and Really Mean it, They Say it Will Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It'll be OK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay welcome back! Now you may be wondering, but Sailboat, it's only Tuesday, why are you updating? Well you see, I have my AP World History exam on Thursday, and I can't afford to procrastinate any more on Wednesday, so I'm going to yeet this out there today and go off to my demise and then revive and keep updating by schedule next week (technically we have have one more chapter after this but you get it).
> 
> Anyway, for those in desperate need to comfort after AP exams like me, I hope I can provide some of that ;)
> 
> Enjoy.

It took Sougo less than a minute to make the girl surrender the elixir and toss it over his shoulder. Gintoki snatched it out of the air before Shuntarou, a screeching madman, could make a feral lunge for it. One look at Hijikata, eyes shut, chest unmoving, and a bluish tint creeping up the trembling tips of his fingers, told Gintoki that the man wouldn’t be swallowing any medicine by himself any time soon. So without a second thought he tilted his head back, dumped the entirety of the bottle’s contents into his mouth and—bastard’s not gonna like this—brought their lips together. A hush fell over the crowd.

Sougo  _ might _ have snapped a picture.

When he straightened, the Shinsengumi’s men were all staring at him looking quite like goldfish out of water, but Gintoki just shrugged, and looked back down at Hijikata.

_ Just so you know, mayo-freak. _

An agonizing minute passed with no reaction, and the men shifted nervously, and Kondou already had tears in his eyes and presumably a sob in his throat.

Then Hijikata took a sharp, shuddering breath, and they collectively exhaled their tight-wound anxieties. A few teardrops slid down Kondou’s cheeks anyway.

_ This is  **not** how I imagined we’d go public. _

Laughter brought their attention back to their prisoner, who had taken the moments of silence to crawl to his daughter sprawled and bloodied on the ground.

“You can save one person, but we have a lot more torches than you think.”

The words of the Shinra (or perhaps he was a man too) hit Gintoki like a wrecking ball.

_ Soon it won’t be anything at all. _

“They’re going to burn the shelter.” The words came out much softer than he imagined, but enough to spur the police force into anxious action, and he pulled the vice commander (barely regaining consciousness) to his feet again, his own a bit unsteady, with all the blood he lost and whatnot. Hijikata stumbled again, and as Gintoki reached out to steady him, a cry called his attention. He turned and saw with indifference that Shuntarou had somehow slit his own throat on Sochirou-kun’s sword, and the girl was scrambling madly at the ground as she was pulled away by Saitou’s men for later questioning.

A harsh inhale brought his eyes back to Hijikata to see the vice commander bring a trembling hand to somewhere on his left lower back. Bringing his own hand there, it came away red. Well, red _ der _ .

That bastard Shinra.

His attempt to full on carry the vice commander again, however, was met with resistance.

“I can… walk. Get to… the shelter.”

“Sure you can, mayo-brain.”

“Get…” the sudden burst of strength caught Gintoki off guard, and Hijikata’s arm slipped through his grasp, a hand on his back shoving him forward. “ _ Going. _ ”

He stumbled forward, and turned just in time to see the vice commander stagger, struggling to put pressure on the wound. Then the Shinsengumi was around him, a stream that pushed him forward. Worry gnawing and nestling uncomfortably in his gut, Gintoki pushed against the tide, but even as he did, he heard a few older voices calling out Hijikata’s name. He hesitated, then turned and ran, and sets his heart on saving whatever was left of Edo.

For many years after, younger recruits used to gather around for the story of the silver samurai who ran with the Shinsengumi and saved their vice commander.

Before said vice commander found them and kicked them all out onto the training field, of course.

**oO0Oo**

They arrived in the nick of time.

A warehouse on the far end of the shelter was set ablaze, but the people had already escaped to safer places under the instructions of Matsudaira and his daughter: a pampered little thing that had chased Hijikata around at one point, who was now ignoring her father’s various attempts to cheer her up. Gintoki assumed it was because something of hers was lost in the warehouse.

An explosion sent them reeling, and Gintoki looked up to see Matsudaira holding a smoking bazuka, pointed at a corner of the shelter where rebels buzzed like flies. 

Once the Shinsengumi spotted them, they charged, and Gintoki followed.

**oO0Oo**

The fight was short. Shuntarou had underestimated the time his allies would need to complete their plan, and so had ruined it before ruining himself.

The amanto were lined up, shackled and defeated, on their knees, but before anyone could do anything, Kagura strode up to the first prisoner, and with a showoff of her Yato strength, teared the Dakini head off. Blood sprayed, and the prisoner howled in pain. When she stepped aside, they saw that it was human, the mask ripped off of his neck and leaving tattered skin.

The girl went down the row, ignoring the Shinsengumi's astonished looks, until she unmasked all the rebels. Then she padded over to Gintoki, some thirty pairs of eyes following her every move.

“Gin-chan,” she said. “I’m hungry.”

**oO0Oo**

The interrogation went smoothly enough.

Even half dead, the demon vice commander, with prince of sadists, had the rebels talking in no more than five minutes, and even that was just because Sougo still went for assassination attempts in between rounds of questioning. Or perhaps it helped scare the rebels into submission. Who knows.

It wouldn’t be long until they returned from the chamber, Sougo sparkling clean and Hijikata splattered with blood, a cigarette in hand. Whether the blood was that of the rebels or his own, no one could really say. They came with news that the joui extremists had donned the disguise of amanto in hope of triggering a war between the two races in order to overthrow the bakufu and allow the aliens eternal reign of Japan. 

Many say their efforts to stop the war were in vain, but if you’d like to hear about it, that is a tale for another day.

**oO0Oo**

He was sitting on the ground, leaned against a wall, Gintoki, white dressings peeking out from under his sloppily put on yukata, standing next to him, when the effects of the drug or medicine or whatever kicked into full effect.

A searing fire engulfed his stomach, racing upwards into his lungs and windpipe, and  _ god _ it was back and he couldn’t breath he couldn’t  _ breathe _ \- 

He doubled over, knees drawing up to his chest and a scream building in the back of his throat, yet painfully hyper aware of everything happening around him.

Gintoki was calling for the doctor. Kozue-san ran across the length of the warehouse, and he heard every fall of her steps like an earthquake. His eardrums protested harshly, yet he could spare no hands to cover them.

She knelt in front of him, as well as two other Shinsengumi members and Kondou-san. Kondou’s hands were on his shoulders, Gintoki’s on his arms. And by god they hurt, as if his skin was spontaneously bursting into flames at every point of contact. The doctor was taking an oxygen mask out of her bag, and then it was forced onto his face.

As lame as it was, these masks never failed to make him uneasy, perhaps in part due to their likeness to the muzzles his crueler siblings forced onto him when he was barely out of toddlerhood. Whatever the reason, Hijikata struggled, until strong hands—Gintoki’s— pressed the mask in place, forcing the back of Hijikata’s head against the wall.

“Stay still,” Gintoki said. “It’s keeping you alive.”

The edges of his vision were going a bit fuzzy, and his mind was ringing with white noise. He supposed the sedatives must be kicking in, because soon, he again embraced dark oblivion.

**oO0Oo**

He sat in a field of flowers (he scoffed at it, how cliche), the sun gently caressing him with its brilliant rays and bees buzzing to and fro around him. As he looked around, he realized he was in Bushuu.

He reached out to pluck a flower he recognized as her favorite, but as soon as he touched it, it bursted into flames and spread to the rest of the field within seconds, and when he shot to his feet, he was engulf in a sea of fire. When he looked around, he was no longer in Bushuu, but Edo. All around him, people were screaming, among them voices that he recognized and filled him with dread.

“Toushi!” There were ever only two people he allowed to call him that, and as their voices blended together, he threw himself into the flames. The fire snapped at him like wild beasts, but he didn’t feel the pain.

“Toushirou-san.” He spun around, vision obstructed on all sides by roaring flames. 

Where are you?

“Toushirou-san.” He followed the voice blindly, running through the fire, caring not for the blood that trailed down his face and arms. 

_ Where are you? _

“Toushi.” There was no mistaking that voice from his past now, and Hijikata didn’t stop running, because they were here, and they could be in danger, and the nightmares he thought he got rid of by leaving the two of them behind would come true.

Finally, he saw the familiar silhouettes in the flames, and he put in a burst of speed to see them again.

He ran, and ran, and ran, but they didn’t get any closer, and when some figment of his imagination finally convinced him that they were, the shapes dissipated into dust on the wind. He screamed for them, their names an apology on his lips, and he kept running. But never again did their voices make a response.

“No…” the word came out so small, so cracked that he did not recognize it.

He staggered and fell to his knees, the raging flames suddenly quiet, and screamed into the scorched, brittle grass. It was still burning, everything was still burning, and he was content to simply let it swallow him whole.

But somewhere in his mind he saw a gentle, silver light. He looked up to see only the angry red of the fire greeting him. What made him get up was some voice in his head, and Hijikata kept running, staggering along towards something unknown. His mind’s eye told him he was getting closer, and somewhere in front of him, so much closer than before, he saw a figure in a yukata. Hijikata called out to him, not recognizing the name that tumbled from his mouth. The figure turned, and held out his hand.

In a rush, the fire went out like someone blew out a candle, and Hijikata grabbed for the hand held out for him like a lifeline.

**oO0Oo**

He woke—perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration—he regained some shreds of consciousness to silver hair in his peripheral vision and a familiar voice in his ear. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it soothing though.

“Oi oi, mayora-sama, you still cry from nightmares? How old are you? Eight?” Usually, he would have bitten back a retort, but his skull was pounding, and his brain was a muddled mess, and he kept getting so  _ cold _ . So he just clutched at the other’s back, only loosening his grip when the other flinched.

Something rough brushed his arm, and Hijikata barely registered the bandagings on the other’s exposed forearms. “Does it hurt.” He managed to mumble.

“Don’t worry about it.” The other pulled back and Hijikata felt a light peck on his forehead, then a finger under his right eye, wiping away the tears. “Sleep it off, Toushirou, it’ll be ok.”

He felt himself lowered back onto the futon, the same hand brushing past his burning forehead, bringing a welcomed chill, yet at the same time it felt as if he’d never been this cold in his life. The breaths he huffed out didn’t grate against his windpipe anymore, but each felt too thick, and they kept getting trapped in his throat, forcing him to heave uncomfortably for air, sweat beading on his forehead. Someone drew the covers up to his shoulders, but he couldn’t quite tell whether they helped. Then the hand rose, and the person by his side was standing, was going to leave.

Hijikata caught the person’s wrist. “Stay…”

“Now now Hijikata-kunn-”

“Please.”

**oO0Oo**

The fever kept up for three days, and Sakata Gintoki stayed.

He stayed when fever dreams made cerulean pools panicked with unknown terror, when Hijikata’s temperature spiked so dangerously high that even the stern yet good-natured doctor of the Shinsengumi was yelling at younger nurses to hurry up and Gintoki was pushed to the corner of the room, when it would just be the two of them and he killed time by playing with pale fingers or limp strands of dark hair, when he would simply lay down on the futon and touch their foreheads together, or bring the slimmer build into his chest, until the raven stopped shivering.

Yet when it rained on the third day, just like Ketsuno Ana said it would, he couldn’t.

**oO0Oo**

Gintoki sat on the floor and sipped contently on a carton of strawberry milk, dead-fish eyes wandering with a boredom about the small room before settling back on the man sleeping on his side, features peaceful under the shadows of hanging v-shaped bangs.

Gintoki couldn’t help but think, Hijikata Toushirou looked too young when he was sleeping.

Neither of them were young, and both were alive when the war ripped apart nations and families, yet when the demon fell asleep, weak and vulnerable from fever and the aftereffects of a brush with death, he looked too small, and Gintoki would be lying if he claimed he didn’t enjoy watching Hijikata sleep. And in spite of how stalker-y that sounds, Gin-san would definitely  _ not _ stoop to that level, he was too dignified for that. In fact, he’ll make it very clear that he was watching the vice commander sleep, that  _ was _ his right as a unique shonen main character, after all. 

Or so he said, Gin-san was ever strange like that.

At this moment the doctor… what was her name? Kazuya*? Koyue? Kaiyuu? Kaiyuu, that was it. Anyway, she walked in. Gintoki moved out of the way, and caught a glimpse of Edo’s people through the shoji, now homeless and scared. Kagura and Shinpachi followed in and settled around him comfortably with a hug. He accepted it, silently grateful.

Thunder rolled in, and the pitter patter of rain filled the silence.

**oO0Oo**

He woke (he’ll let himself use that word this time) to the sound of rain. Looking around, he saw that he was alone. Pushing himself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain that still rippled through the muscles of his back, Hijikata took a moment to let his swimming head settle, then took the crutch by his bed, and an umbrella, and stood, making his way to the door.

As he suspected, he found Gintoki standing in the rain, turned vaguely towards Edo, soaked to the bone. The crutch sank a little into the soft ground as he made his way to him, wordlessly letting the umbrella shelter the both of them. From under the dripping silver bangs, he could discern tears amidst rainwater. 

He lit a cigarette, watching the smoke dance away into the gloom.

Their hands brushed, and Gintoki grabbed his the way a man who didn’t know how to swim grabbed for a lifebuoy while adrift in a stormy sea, jostling the umbrella and sending a shower of raindrops onto Hijikata’s shoulder. He squeezed back, firm, because hands calloused and scarred by the battlefield were all but strangers to gentleness. But between the two of them, it was enough.

_ We’ll rebuild Edo together. _

**oO0Oo**

“They stood like that for a while, and fatigue was creeping back into Hijikata-san’s posture in the curve of his back and the way he too-obviously favored his right leg, so Gin-san decided to very indiscreetly slide an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in.

“‘Don’t be shy.’ He teased, and Hijikata-san went red at the ears, but the screaming protests of his back won over, and he accepted the support. 

“In that moment, everything felt as if…”

“It’ll be ok.” The young voice finishes, ringing like little silver bells.

“And it was. Except for all the blackmail material Okita-san got from the whole ordeal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kazuya as in Nakai Kazuya's first name as in Hijikata's voice actor's first name as in I couldn't help myself because I love that voice actor as in 4th wall what 4th wall.
> 
> Did I have to make them kiss? No. Could Gin-san have just done the thing real life people do and put the potion in Toushi's mouth and massaged his throat until it went down? Yes. Is that fun? No.
> 
> Anyway, I certainly hope that was more uplifting than usual, but the last part really makes you wonder...
> 
> Again, idk how ricin works, just my interpretation, feel free to correct me. Same goes for characterization, because if you haven't noticed, having our boys be vulnerable is a very interesting hobby of mine and I might've overdone it with the crying, please do yell at me if you think this is something they wouldn't do. :p
> 
> I'll see you next week, love ya <3
> 
> Sailboat out.
> 
> Instagram: @fan_miyun


	8. The Thin Line Between Demons and Angels is a Small Thing Called Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shinpachi-niisan, when are they coming home?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back, thank you coming on this rollercoaster with me, and I hope you enjoyed the ride.
> 
> Now tighten your buckles, because we're coming up on one last plunge.

The book closes gently, dust flitting about the aged pages.

“Did you like the story?”

The little boy nods, the way he does for every story, eyes twinkling with remnants of focused fascination. He loves these stories, and whenever he asks, they would read it to him, from the big, big book worn from years of shoving it into a closet or under a mattress at the slightest creak of the door, pages rumpled from the countless hands that had written in it the legacy of demons.

He looks up at them. The dark-haired man is laughing softly, a cigarette held aloft in his right hand, smoke curling up into the air like little spirits dancing and twirling along in their hazy, half-transparent gowns. He always liked that sound, the deep, infectious chuckle that buzzes pleasantly in his ears and brings him too to a childish giggle.

He doesn’t laugh much, Kondou-jisan* always tells the boy with a certain fondness, but he doesn’t believe him, he thinks the smile looks very natural on the man’s pretty features.

The black yukata the man is wearing suits him well, the boy thinks. He likes the way it’s a little loose so it dangles off his shoulders, relaxed and seemingly unbothered by his countless responsibilities. 

The man next to him is equally charming but in a very different way. The boy always has to think for a moment before he can put his mind around it. He looks at him a moment, and remembers. The silver man is charming the way a white fox is charming, with a head of wild curls and a mischievous light ever in wine red eyes. There’s a gentle, silver light about him, the one you see when you go out by the edge of the woods at midnight, and look at the way the full moon illuminates the nine-tailed fox sitting on a boulder like a king on his throne.

He is facing the boy from his place on the other side of his companion, a tease on the tip of his tongue, head cocked the way he does when he is about to make a joke, the angle of his shoulders ever so slightly protective. His black and white yukata dangles and sways on his arm, and the blue patterns swirling merrily about the sleeve make the boy smile. They remind him of snowfall, on those rare peaceful days when the darker man, the one with the nice smile, would take the boy in his arms and the three of them would go stand on the balcony just to watch the snowflakes land on the tips of their noses, and many times the little boy would stick out his tongue and wait for the happy chill when a stray flake lands on it. He remembers Sougo-niisan** telling him that the darker man always held him because he was afraid of the cold, but the little boy doesn’t think so, because the cold isn’t one of the bad people, and the darker man isn’t afraid of the bad people, so there’s no way he would be afraid of the snow. The silver man told him that it’s true though, and the little boy noticed that perhaps he did bundle up a little too much every time they left in the snow, faces grim and solemn, hands clutching their katanas.

In between them, the silver man is holding up those same hands, loosely clasped together so casually that sometimes the boy forgets they are warriors. 

_ They’re the soldiers that defended our home in the war. _ He remembers.  _ They protected Edo’s legacy and books and knowledge when the bad people wanted to burn it all to the ground. They are the ones that charged into battle and made sure the good guys always win, like in the fairytales. They’re the ones that brought peace to Edo and made sure it stayed. _

_ They are the blood-drenched demons on the battlefield that made enemies flee at the sound of their names. _ He doesn’t know if he believes that, because they were always so relaxed when the boy sees them, so ordinary when they tousled his hair and let him follow them around.

_ They love Edo and their families, and sometimes along the way, I became a part of their family. _ The little boy thinks proudly.

_ A tiny child, still in his crib, showed up on their doorstep one day. _ Shinpachi-niisan told him. _ He was crying because the gunfire scared him. They took him in. _

_ They are very good people. _ Kondou-jisan always says.  _ We’ll find him. _

He doesn’t really know what that means yet, or who needs to be found, but it reassures him, looking at the good men, so happy and so still.

“Shinpachi-niisan.” The little boy looks away from the picture on the wall and at the older boy that holds the big, big book in his hands. “When are they coming home?”

It has been many, many months since peace came to Edo, maybe even years, and the boy had learned to recognize people and call them by name, and still he waits day after day for the silver man and the man with the pleasant laughter to come back to the little building Shinpachi-niisan and Kagura-neechan*** call the “Yorozuya.” He wants to finally ask them for their names and surprise them when he repeats it back at them. It isn’t as if he doesn’t know their names. He knows the words well, almost too well, but he wants them to say it to him, because there’s something about the way a name falls from the tongue that uses it least that’s so magical to the little boy, and until then, they are only words to him. 

He waits because they always come back. They’ll walk through the door, and the man with the pretty laugh will bend down and pick him up while the silver man ruffles his hair. Their hands are always warm and firm, and many a time he would cling to them because they make him feel so safe.

Sougo-niisan came back, and so did Kondou-jisan and Yamazaki-jisan, so of course they’ll come back too. Nothing changed, after all, even if he hadn’t seen Saitou-jisan in a long, long time.

Shinpachi-niisan sets aside the big book, and the little boy notices the way his eyes waver under round lenses. When Shinpachi-niisan looks at him again, he thinks the smile is strained.

“Soon.”

“And they come home together.” He says, pulling himself straighter at the older boy’s strange reaction, thin, silver brows drawing together. There is a silence, and the boy gets up and pulls at Shinpachi-niisan’s blue and white sleeve. “They will!” Shinpachi-niisan takes a deep, shaking breath-

_ Bang. _

The two boys jerk towards the entrance of the Yorozuya, and Shinpachi-niisan immediately pulls the boy behind him, hand settled on a familiar wooden katana. It looks very similar to the silver man’s, the boy thinks. He isn’t sure where it came from, but one day Shinpachi-niisan had come back with it, and that was the day he started waiting for the two good men to come back.

Then Shinpachi-niisan relaxes, hand dropping back to his side. Curious, the little boy peeks out, then dashes out from behind the older boy towards the man leaning heavily on the wooden sliding door. The man tries to step up to meet him, but as soon as the he leaves the door frame, his right leg gives out, and his knees slam into the ground as the boy runs into familiar arms, the sharp intake of breath and soft, pained sound a whisper past his ear.

“Touka…” The name is a broken murmur into Touka’s hair, and he knows something is wrong. The arms around him aren’t as strong as he remembers, and the man is too thin, and he is shaking violently, Touka notices with worry and confusion.

Wanting to cheer him up, hear the pretty laughter again, Touka asks the question he had been rehearsing for many, many days. “What is your name?”

There is a small pause in the man’s trembling, and Touka hears a few shaky breaths by his ear before there is a soft answer. “Hijikata Toushirou.”

“Hijikata Toushirou.” Touka repeats back, tasting the words on his tongue, giggling as it evolves from a combination of letters to a name. “Is the silver man coming home?” Perhaps that is the wrong thing to say, because the trembling slams back into Hijikata-san’s back like thunder in a storm, and the warm hand falls away from Touka’s hair.

“No…” The word is nearly choked out, and Touka realizes Hijikata-san is crying. It scares him a little.

“Where does he go?” He asks. Maybe if Hijikata-san can remember where the silver man is, he won’t be sad anymore. 

“He is…” All Touka hears for a moment is the soft, still a little unsteady breaths that ruffle his hair. Hijikata-san seems to change his mind. “Where he is supposed to go.” The words sound calmer, and Touka thinks that’s good, but Hijikata-san still hasn’t stopped shaking.

“Can we find him?” Hijikata-san shakes his head against his shoulder, and Touka thinks he understands. The silver man isn’t coming home again. He must have taken the train to somewhere far, far away, Touka thinks.

“Hijikata-san, how does the silver man know where to go?” He feels the thin shoulders he is leaning against tense before Hijikata-san pulls away, bringing a hand over his face before looking at Touka. He’s trying to hide the tears, Touka knows, so he reaches out his hand and brushes under Hijikata-san’s right eye, and brushes the remaining tear tracks away.

“I sent him on his way,” Hijikata-san says, and Touka doesn’t understand why his voice breaks. It’s a good thing, right? If Hijikata-san was the one that took him to the train station, the silver man will be happy where he is going. “He’s safe now.” Touka nods, and then he sees the white fabric snaking around Hijikata-san’s chest and arms, and the strips covering his forehead. Touka frowns. In the past years, he had learned that the white fabric isn’t good, because that’s always where it hurts. Touka touches his hand to his own forehead.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, because he remembers Hijikata-san asking the silver man when he saw the white fabric. Hijikata-san shakes his head, but Touka thinks he’s lying.

“I’ll…” Hijikata-san swallows, and Touka feels the hands on his shoulders shaking again, and it suddenly occurs to him that Hijikata-san is scared. Touka wants to shrink away from something so foreign, but he settles himself on the ground in front of Hijikata-san and looks up into the pretty blue eyes. He sees something dark in them, and he tries to chase it away. He tugs on the sleeve of the black yukata.

“Hijikata-san.” The man seems to snap out of a trance, and when his flitting eyes settle back on Touka, they retreat to a calmer shade of blue, like the sea after a storm. The hand on Touka’s shoulder moves to cup his face, and the little boy smiles for the tired demon.

“I’ll tell you the story one day.”

Suddenly, the phone rings, and Touka hears Shinpachi-niisan exchange a few hurried words with whoever is on the other end before he hangs up. Hijikata-san won’t look at him, even when Shinpachi-niisan gives him a small, worried smile. Touka wonders why.

"It's ok," Shinpachi-niisan whispers, but Hijikata-san only shakes his head.

Soon, wooden steps creek as several people race up to the door.

“Toushi!” Touka feels Hijikata-san’s hand in his hair again, brushing through the neat, snowy strands. It lifts when a shadow falls on them, framed by the door behind Hijikata-san. “Thank god you’re here,” Kondou-jisan pants out, the remnants of panic still in his eyes.

“Sorry to worry you, Kondou-san,” Hijikata-san says, and Touka thinks he sounds too subdued. Hijikata-san makes to stand, but his right leg buckles again, and Kondou-jisan rushes to catch him by the arm where there is so much white fabric, an arm wrapped around his waist to hold him upright. It almost seems to hurt him, in the way Hijikata-san flinches at the touch, eyes closed and mouth set in a hard line. 

It isn’t right, Touka thinks, it was never this bad before, when they would come home together and Hijikata-san would fix up the silver man between worried insults, or the silver man would bandage up Hijikata-san with teasing annoyance.

“You should be resting!”

“I know!” For a moment, the vigour is back in his eyes, but it dies again like a candle in a storm. “I just… needed to see him.”

Hijikata-san’s voice is too small, and he won’t look at Kondou-jisan, and it makes Touka start crying, the way Hijikata-san seems so tired and sad. He gets up and walks to them, and grabs Hijikata-san’s fingers. Maybe if he holds his hand the way the silver man always does, he will laugh again, but when Hijikata-san smiles at him, Touka sees an emptiness in his eyes that was never there before when the silver man would come home together, and suddenly, it is as if someone put the words in his mouth.

“Hijikata-san,” he says. “The silver man is in a very pretty place, and he says he will wait for you.” Hijikata-san looks away, his hair, too long, Touka notices, like it hasn’t been cut in months, falls into his face, obscuring his eyes. Touka tugs on the fingers he is gripping with what little strength he has. Hijikata-san doesn’t understand, so Touka has to make him understand, the silver man wants him to. “You are not demons,” he declares, looking at the silver man standing behind Kondou-jisan, a little faded, like in a memory, and smiling, and Touka marvels at the beautiful thing on the men’s backs.

“Demons don’t have white wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *respectful honorific for uncle  
> **respectful honorific for older brother  
> ***fond honorific for older sister
> 
> First, thank you to everyone who read this story, left kudos, left comments, you were such motivation to me to keep writing and it was such a pleasure to ride with you all, but we're pulling into the end now. I want to say a special thank you to DissociatingGhost, WriteAndRead, and arashian155 for being so supportive and lovely throughout the duration of the story. But really, my love goes out to everyone who commented or left kudos, it makes my day without fail every time <3
> 
> Second, I need everyone to make a decision for me. I might make this into a series because this last chapter left so much in the air, but it is entirely up to you guys whether you want to see how it played out in my head or whether you would like it to remain a bit open-ended like this. We stand in front of another rollercoaster my dear friends, but the gate is locked, and you have the key.
> 
> Have a wonderful day/night.
> 
> Sailboat out.
> 
> Instagram: @fan_miyun


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